


give me everything tonight

by Splatx



Series: Kinktober 2020 [8]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Accidental Knotting", #10, Accidental Knotting, Alpha John Marston, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Barn Sex, Biting, Day 10, F/M, I might continue this tbh?, John's a mess, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Kinktober2020, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Lots of Cum, Lots of slick, Messy, Number 10 - Freeform, Omega Reader, Replaced Prompt, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Sex in a Barn, Wall Sex, Young John Marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: Kinktober 2020, #10: "Accidental Knotting"The tension between you and John had been driving the entire gang up a wall.Granted, at the time the ‘entire gang’ had consisted only of you, John, Arthur, Hosea and Dutch. But the sentiment remained the same.Ever since you’d presented Omega he’d been sniffing at your heels - well, even before then, if you were being honest. Arthur had pulled him aside, threatened his hide if he were only after you because you were an Omega, and he’d avoided you for a few weeks, then there he’d been again following you like some love-struck pup.Dutch and Hosea had made bets as to when the two of you would get together - and Arthur had been furious when he found out he’d been left out of the pool. Though they’d always dragged you out to a cabin or hotel for your Heats, threatening his manhood if he so much as looked your way during it - they were in no position to be tending to a pregnant Omega or caring for pups.
Relationships: John Marston/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947451
Kudos: 103
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	give me everything tonight

###  _give me everything tonight_  
~Give Me Everything, Pitbull

The tension between you and John had been driving the entire gang up a wall.

Granted, at the time the ‘entire gang’ had consisted only of you, John, Arthur, Hosea and Dutch. But the sentiment remained the same.

Ever since you’d presented Omega he’d been sniffing at your heels - well, even before then, if you were being honest. Arthur had pulled him aside, threatened his hide if he were only after you because you were an Omega, and he’d avoided you for a few weeks, then there he’d been again following you like some love-struck pup.

Dutch and Hosea had made bets as to when the two of you would get together - and Arthur had been furious when he found out he’d been left out of the pool. Though they’d always dragged you out to a cabin or hotel for your Heats, threatening his manhood if he so much as looked your way during it - they were in _no_ position to be tending to a pregnant Omega or caring for pups.

  
  


It all came to a head, of course, when you’d made camp on a small homestead. It was _nice,_ and appealed something awful to your Omega - it was a _home,_ something _steady_ though you knew it wouldn’t be home forever. There were _beds_ not _cots,_ a _kitchen_ not a _campfire,_ and a barn where you kept your horses. It was _wonderful,_ and Hosea and Dutch had barely contained their amusement when they’d found you curled up in what was undeniably a nest four days into your stay, trying to track down their missing shirts.

They let you keep them.

  
  


Hosea and Dutch had gone off to the nearby town to sniff out leads, and Arthur was off with some Beta that’d caught his eye.

How it had happened, you weren’t quite sure. One minute you’d been cleaning your rifle, the next he’d been dragging you to the barn - blissfully empty of horses, having let them out to graze earlier in the day. He pressed you against the wall of it, the both of you pawing at each other's clothing - he flung your pants off into the hay and “Hey!” “I’ll get ‘em later” you undid his shirt enough that you could nip and lick at his neck, could taste the oils beading at his scent glands. He flung your shirt off to join your pants and you stopped your attentions in favor of lolling your head back, hips bucking as he began to nip and nibble and suck at _your_ neck, chewing at you like some over-excited puppy and you’d have to wear a high-necked shirt for _ages_ but fuck if that didn’t send shocks of pleasure through you, his teeth scraped along your bonding gland and you thumped at his ribs, he grunted and slid down to sink his teeth into your collarbone, rutting the tent in his denim pants against your bared mound and “Goddammit John get it in me!”

  
  


He had the presence of mind to prepare you - if quickly and not well, hands shaking and fumbling, a bit too rough, the stretching stinging but _god_ if the scrape of his teeth just beneath where you needed them - but if he claimed you you’d _kill_ _him_ and you knew the others would do the same - didn’t make up for it, didn’t distract you from the pain, and then he was struggling with the buttons that fastened his pants, growling his frustration somewhere low in his throat, and the sound that was pure Alpha made you shudder, made slick run down your legs in rivulets and darken the straw beneath you, until finally you reached down to help him.

He exploded out of his pants, already dripping pre-cum and painfully red at the tip, and when you took a moment to take him in hand and stroke him he practically sobbed, bucking up into your grip. He _did_ keen when you took your hand off of him, not hesitating to grab you by the thighs and tug - you were quick to hop up, wrapping your legs around him, and he leaned against you, pinning you against the wall and _oh_ his weight against you was _nice,_ you’d have thought you’d find it suffocating but it was actually rather soothing, comforting.

  
  


His hips rutted pathetically, tiny little bucks that served to do nothing but cover your lips with his pre-cum and bump him against you, and finally he reached down to readjust himself, pressing his cock-head against your burning slit, shuddering as he pressed the very tip into you, sitting his teeth into your neck before sheathing himself with a single thrust.

You both moaned.

Your hands slipped up under his shirt, ragged nails clawing red lines into his back, breathing deep as you tried to get used to the stretch of your walls around him. He whined pathetically, licking at your scent glands as his hips gave tiny, aborted little thrusts, fighting the urge to fuck you, desperate to let you get used to him first. “Jesus- so good, so warm, oh god, so wet,” he babbled, pulling away to rub his chin along your collarbone, marking you with his own scent and shit you were going to _reek_ of him, already the air was thick with _sex-Alpha-Omega-John-you._

“Please-” you started - you could feel him throbbing inside you, the tiny little thrusts as he failed to keep from moving weren’t anything close to enough, and though the stretch _burned_ you weren’t nearly prepared enough you _needed_ and—

he thrusted so hard your head bounced against the wall. Grunted an apology, reached up to cradle the back of your head, clenched tighter to your thigh - jesus, you were going to be able to make out every crease of his hand on that bruise tomorrow - and began to _fuck_ you.

Each thrust knocked the breath from your lungs, helpless little moans escaping your throat. He never pulled away from your neck - licked and bit and nipped and chewed and sucked, rubbed his face on it to mark you with his scent and be marked with yours in return, face _glistening,_ and tiny grunts spilled from his chest, interrupting the growls he couldn’t seem to stop, “Fuck, fuck, so good, my Omega, so tight, so warm, _fuck,”_ rambling nonsense half-obscured by his noises.

He fucked like a jackrabbit, quick and deep and desperate, no rhythm for you to get used to, and all you could do was clutch onto him, dig your nails into his skin and wrap your legs tighter, and enjoy the ride. Pant his name (and each time you did he made the most pathetic, _wonderful_ whining sound) and make those Omegan trills and chirps and, when he thrust _just so, purrs_ that made growls erupt from his chest in return, that made his cock twitch and drove him even closer to his orgasm. The barn reeked of sex, of the slick that, with each thrust, oozed down your legs, white with his pre-cum, staining the hay at his feet and soaking his groin and his pants - he’d have to throw them out, they were _beyond_ ruined.

John nipped at your bonding gland, and you saw white. Your walls clenched tight around him and he whined, long and high and pitiful, rippling with each wave of pleasure and _soaking_ him, he choked on the taste of _Omega-pleasure-slick_ in the air, at the way the oils on your scent glands went thick and heady, addictive on his tongue, and he lapped at you as though he couldn't get enough. You shuddered and shook, legs tightening around him as your walls did the same, pushing him deeper inside you with each thrust and your head tilted to the side, baring your bonding gland in an instinctual invitation - he had to set his teeth into your collarbone to keep from _biting_ and _marking_ and _claiming,_ and the sound you made shot through him, Omega and desperate _‘why?’_ though later, of course, you’d be glad he’d done so and thoroughly embarrassed at having offered yourself in such a way.

  
  


He gripped you tighter - _ow!_ \- and hilted himself inside of you, and you had a moment to realize “Oh, John, don’t!” before his knot tied him to you, swelling and _hurting,_ you weren’t loose and too-slick with Heat and _burn-stretch-pain_ but also _pleasure-satisfaction-Alpha_ and despite yourself you wrapped yourself around him tighter, “Dammit John,” even as you instinctively clenched around him, his cum a strange warmth inside of you, ribbons painting your walls as he throbbed, whining

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” even as he gave tiny little bucks of his hips, testing the very secure tie and _“Shit,”_ he hissed, that kind of hurt, you thumped his back to make him stop when it tugged painfully at your walls, only succeeding in leaking cum down your legs.

“Goddammit,” you hissed, but each throb of his cock rubbed his knot against your pleasure spot and you couldn’t stay mad, not with the pleasure that shot through you and of course that’s why an Alpha’s knot was where it was and an Omega’s pleasure spot was where it was, the Alpha panted above you, dropping his other hand to clutch at your waist, squeezing with each pulse of cum that you could _feel_ inside of you, both of you shuddering. God, you could have killed him, even with his moaned sorries, but the knot was starting to feel _very good_ and the pain was fading even as the pulsing of his cum turned into a trickle instead of ropes, how you could hold any more you didn’t know you could _feel it_ sloshing inside of you, feel it trickling down your legs with each helpless little twitch of his hips.

“Sorry,” he whined again, though a pleased, proud growl rolled in his chest as he tried to adjust you both, trying to make it more comfortable because the wood of the wall was starting to dig into your back and your thighs were cramping where they wrapped around his waist. John panted, his breath ghosting over your neck, and as he carefully lowered you to the ground (both of you winced at the painful tugging at the tie) he licked at your sensitive scent glands in apology, sending little shocks of pleasure to join those from the rubbing of his knot against your pleasure spot.

  
  


“John?”

Some half an hour later Hosea’s voice called out, and you froze. John’s teeth stilled against your neck where he’d been nipping, and ice shot down your spine. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth and stifle your yelp as he jerked back, pain shooting through you as his knot tugged at your sensitive walls, shrunk but not small enough to be pulled out, collapsing on top of you and pinning you into the hay.

_‘Don’t come into the barn. Don’t come into the barn.’_

Blessedly, he didn’t come into the barn.

When John tugged himself free - probably earlier than he should have, testing every few minutes until you were sore and raw - it _hurt,_ knot dragging at your walls and still half-swollen as he hurried to wipe himself off with his handkerchief, helping you do the same. Thank god, but there was a water trough kept in the barn for the horses, and you gave yourselves the most uncomfortable ‘sponge’-baths you’d ever had, found that you were _still_ dripping cum though it had been the better part of an hour, and finally slipped John’s kerchief inside of you in some sort of false knot to keep from messing your pants or leaving a trail, and slipped outside, intending on bolting for the forest and looping back around, trying to come up with a good cover story.

  
  


Hosea rode out the next day intending on buying a new gun, fifty dollars richer.

It took Arthur’s knuckles a few days to heal, and John had a black eye for a week.


End file.
